


A Rebellion of Iron

by MrToddWilkins



Series: For Want of a Finger Dance [1]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin
Genre: Arthur Dayne lives, Butterfly Effect, Elia Martell Lives, F/M, Gen, Gerold Hightower Lives, Oswell Whent Lives, Reworking of an orphaned series, Rhaenys Targaryen Lives
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-21
Updated: 2018-10-15
Packaged: 2019-06-30 20:00:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,026
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15758676
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MrToddWilkins/pseuds/MrToddWilkins





	1. Prologue

_Westeros is recovering from the chaos caused by Robert Baratheon’s rebellion. Across the Seven Kingdoms,crops are being sown,trees are being planted,and peace reigns._

_But the Stags’ Peace is uncertain. In the West,the hardy folk of the Iron Islands gather their forces for a series of assaults that will determine the fate of the crowned stags. The Westerlands,controlled by the cold and conniving Tywin Lannister,lie open to invasion. In the Reach,young lord Mace Tyrell must defend the richest of the Seven Kingdoms from the feared Ironborn reavers. In the North,Eddard Stark’s difficulties of shepherding his people through winter will be compounded by Ironborn depredations_

_Will Westeros be able to withstand this new conflict?_

———-

_April 7,283_

_The Tower of Glimmering_

Lord Karl Harlaw was said to be a lion in human form,and right now Urrigon could well believe it. His mane of flaxen hair,unusual for the Ironborn,shimmered in the sunlight being reflected into his solar. His hands were small and soft,unlike the traditional hard Harlaw hands of his ancestors,made so by long shifts at the tiller. His legs were short and stout,whereas the usual Harlaw legs were long and muscled.

Above the fireplace,opposite to Urrigon,gleamed Temmer,the ancestral sword of Lord Karl’s branch of House Harlaw. Forged by a Dornish tinsmith during the reign of Balon VII Greyjoy twelve hundred years ago,it had ancient runes of the Iron Tongue etched into its surface. Nearby was a Myrish far-eyes,turned towards the harbor of Harlston below. The other wall,against which Urrigon was now leaning,bore tapestries depicting ancient battles in which Ironborn warriors had triumphed.

Lord Karl was talking animatedly as he paced back and forth behind the plank that served him as a desk. “So,it would seem that the Stag has won himself King’s Landing”.

”Yes. From what Aeron tells me,he will soon lift the siege of Storms’ End. Tyrell,Redwyne,Tarly,and all the others will have no choice but to dip their banners and pledge fealty to House Baratheon of King’s Landing. Stark moves to rescue his companions. The Arryn boy is recovering nicely under the care of Stark’s maester.”

”That’d be young Elbert?”

”Aye.  _Darling_ Ser Denys died at what they’re now calling the Ruby Ford. Elbert’s the one that’s old Lord Jon’s heir.”

”Ah!  _The Fair Falcon_ they call him,right?”

”Aye. A good knight,by all accounts. Bested Marcus Botley at the tourney of Old Oak. And an accomplished rider too.”

”Very well,Urrigon. Keep an eye on the situation,will you?”

”Gladly,my lord”


	2. Eddard I

_May 24,283_

_The Tower of Joy_

 

They were ten against three. The three waited before the round stone tower, the red mountains of Dorne at their backs. Ned Stark knew all of them: Ser Arthur Dayne, the Sword of the Morning, with his fabled greatsword Dawn slung agcross his back. Ser Oswell Whent, sharpening his blade on a whetstone, stormy grey eyes peering out beneath the wings of the black bat on his white helm. And between them, Ser Gerold Hightower, the White Bull, Lord Commander of the Kingsguard,his silver sword gleaming in the low sunlight.

At Ned’s left stood his squire,Ser Mark Ryswell:at his right hand Elbert Arryn,already fully recovered from his days imprisoned in the Tower of the Hand after Aerys had impulsively agreed to spare his life. Howland Reed stood behind Ned,flanked by Ethan Glover and Brynden Tully. William Dustin,heir to Lord Alaric of Barrowton,was also there. Completing the party were the Cassel brothers,Ser Rodrik and Ser Martyn,and Theo Wull.

For a moment,no one dared to speak. It fell to Ser Arthur,who had but recently lost his sister,to break the silence. “Lord Stark.”

“I looked for you on the Trident,” Ned told him.

“We were not there,” Ser Gerold answered.

“Woe to the Usurper if we had been,” said Ser Oswell.

“When King’s Landing fell, Ser Jaime slew your king with his golden sword, and I wondered where you were.”

“Far away,” Ser Gerold said, “or Aerys would yet sit the Iron Throne, and our false brother would burn in the seventh hell.”

“I came down on Storm’s End to lift the siege,” Ned said, “and the Lords Tyrell,Redwyne,Osgrey,Crane,and all the rest dipped their banners, and all their knights bent the knee to pledge us fealty. I was certain you would be among them.”

“Our knees do not bend easily,” said Ser Arthur Dayne.

“Ser Willem Darry and his brother Ser Jonothor are fled to Dragonstone, with your queen,Prince Viserys,and Prince Aegon. I thought you might have sailed with him.”

“Ser Willem and Ser Jonothor are good men and true,” said Ser Oswell.

“But not of the Kingsguard,” Ser Gerold pointed out. “The Kingsguard does not flee.”

“Then or now,” said Ser Arthur.

“We swore a vow,” explained old Ser Gerold.

“And now it begins,” said Ser Arthur Dayne, the Sword of the Morning.

“No,” Ned said with sadness in his voice. “Now it ends. Will you take me to my sister?”

”Gladly. Ser Oswell,show Lord Stark the way.”

———-

Around the inner edge of the tower wound a small flight of steps,inlaid with garishly colored carpets from Tyrosh. The tower itself was three or four stories high,and every so often Ned passed arrow slits set in the wall. Ser Oswell walked ahead of him,his hand on the hilt of his sword and his cloak hanging off his shoulders. Occasionally he would look back at Ned as they made the ascent. Ned saw that the interior of the tower was relatively spare:the middle floor was half barracks,half great hall.

After a few minutes,they came to a bedchamber with a long bed under its window. Upon the bed lay a young woman of about twenty years,who looked as though she would die soon. _Lya! So you have come here in the end._ Beside her sat a nursemaid,holding a child in her arms,

Ned walked up to his sister.


End file.
